


The Iron Asset

by onedeadfellow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Assassin Tony Stark, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, But Only What Is Canon, Canon Divergence - Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Car Accidents, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Hurt Tony Stark, Hydra Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Memory Suppressing Machine | The Chair (Marvel), Pepper Potts & Tony Stark Friendship, Physical Abuse, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Doctor Strange (2016), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Avengers, Psychological Torture, Slight Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Stephen Strange Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Super Soldier Serum, Things Get Better, Tony Stark & Thor Friendship, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark-centric, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2020-12-20 16:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21059528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onedeadfellow/pseuds/onedeadfellow
Summary: Tony Stark Is dyingAt the hands of his once former teammate, he's left to die at a former Hydra base in Siberia. Following the events of their so called "Civil War", the world comes to find out something surprising.Tony Stark is dead...The world moves on from the loss of the famous billionaire and the former superhero. Though 3 years later, after the wounds have healed, Iron Man is supposedly spotted in a Sokovia.Iron Man is back.But at what cost...?





	1. Cold As Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me for any mistakes, I don't speak Russian. Hope you'll like it at least. :/

Alone.

It was the first thing he could think of after he head the disappearing footsteps of his former teammate. It was all he could think of really.

His friends- Well, who knows what they were now. He wasn’t too sure, but he knew for sure that friends don’t usually stab you in the chest and leave you to die.

Tony’s friends did.

He was alone.

Cold.

Dying.

Gone?

He relished death, the impeding darkness at the corner of his eyes. The racing of his heart. The numbness of his bleeding chest. The coldness seeping into the suit’s cracks. The freezing blood.

Death would be nice. He could leave. He could rest.

No more hurt. No more pain.

Of course, there’s people who would miss him. But they weren’t here now.

No one was here.

The suit was destroyed. He couldn’t move from his spot. The more he moved, the faster he’d die. Not like he could try to move 425 pounds of the gold-titanium alloy weighing him down into the concrete.

He breathed slowly, harsh cold air stabbing his lungs. Gazing up at the concrete ceiling, waiting patiently.

As time ticked down in his mind, he too a moment to think over his life. The fails, the wins, the people along the way.

The life of Tony Stark. What exactly is the life of Tony Stark? Who is Tony Stark?

He had no idea who he was himself. He closed his eyes, imagining the people he knew to magically appear and help him get free.

Rhodey.

Pepper.

Happy.

_Stephen…?_

It was quite a dumb hope. That the man who had been in a car accident would magically get out of the bound hospital bed to save Tony from the harsh Siberian cold. 

Who knew dying hurt this bad? Tony did. The pressure on his lungs never left, seeming to become more and more. Spitting up blood on himself wasn’t ideal either. Blood freezing to his face and neck. The concrete was hard and uncomfortable, but so was the stupid shield sized hole in his chest. The air felt heavy, but maybe that was just the pressure.

The most that left him was gurgled cries around blood in his throat that was spit up on his face. It was warm and thick, but instantly started to freeze the moment it his skin. No one could hear him. He could hardly hear himself. 

The shield sized hole in his suit. Dented and crushed to his sternum. The horrid patriotic symbol in his view. The shield blackened with burns and scratched. It disgusted him. Bile and blood rising in his throat at the sight of that dumb shield.

The only warmness was the blood that pooled inside of the armor and slowly dripped out.

He thought he heard a noise.

Maybe this was part of dying, imagining the impossible. Delusional thoughts and hallucinations.

Hallucinations big time. Because he swore, he could hear something else in the bunker when he let out a wet, bloody cough. Whatever was in here with him must’ve been getting closer. He could hear the footsteps more prominent now.

Faint voices muffled through something.

Maybe this was the Winter Soldier. Back to finish the job. To take out the last of the Stark’s. The end of the line for Tony.

Voices getting closer as he could hear Russian. Maybe this was Natasha? Or perhaps this was really The Winter Soldier. He sees a few pairs of black boots stop by his head.

Hardly able to feel the men pulling his armored body away. The loud scraping of the metal against the concrete.

Though looking over one last time at that Shield, he catches sight of the man picking it up.

That patch.

That symbol.

_ He was not safe. _

Now he really wished he could’ve died in the bunker.

The men continue to talk to each other in Russian. No idea what they were saying.

He was lifted up a bit by the men as he was dragged. The sharp metal tearing further into his sternum. The blood rushing down inside the suit from the gravity. The harsher pressure added to his already weak, frozen lungs.

He must’ve made a noise or angered the men in some way. The man with Captain’s shield stopped in front of him. The men no longer dragging him. No longer talking. The room deadly silent.

He could only hear his fading heartbeat pounding in his head and his harsh, ragged breathing around the blood in his throat. The man’s boots crackled under the concrete rubble he stood on. He watched with darkening vision with his head weakly lifted to get a good view of the man.

Well, the best he could achieve.

“Вы смеете говорить?” The man raised an eyebrow at Tony. Tony had no idea what the man said. Not a single word, if they even were words. His mind was too fuzzy with pain. He felt a harsh tap to his head. The man dragging him.

“Ответить на него,” more meaningless words Tony didn’t understand. So, Tony took a fifty-fifty chance and nodded his head weakly. _Maybe they were asking if he was hurt or dying?_

The one man craned his neck up to look at his colleague. They must’ve come to some agreement of sorts in their silent conversation. Because the man, looked back to Tony with a wry smirk on his face.

Tony could feel the choke of blood in his throat when he tried to jerk away from the man. Certainly, not one of his best moves. He hardly moved with all the metal and only bumped into the man’s legs behind him.

The man in front of him stood. Examining the shield, he turned it over in his hands a couple times. He held the shield flat, design facing the concrete below them. Tony lifted his head back up to see the man raise the shield.

A choked off sob left his throat when in a sharp movement the shield came down over him.

The man smashed the flat side on the shield’s front on Tony’s head.

That was it.

Then, nothingness.

Maybe that was it.

_ He was dead…?_

\-------

Snow crunched under their boots as the pair walked towards the jet.

“Hey, Steve…” Bucky stared at the snow as his feet sank a bit with each step, bringing his one arm across his chest to keep warm from the wind howling. Steve kept his head up high, walking against the snow.

Unlike Bucky, who was hunched over. Maybe it was from cold, maybe it was from the immense guilt eating away at his mind at the thought of leaving the man to die. He was still confused with himself.

“Yeah?” Steve grunted, wiping his face with the back of his glove.

“You think he’ll be okay? He’ll make it out right?” Bucky asked, not caring if worry laced his voice.

There was stretched out silence, the doors to the jet opened as Steve walked them in. Their feet clanking against the metal loudly as they boarded the jet. Bucky looked at Steve hopeful.

He couldn’t stand the guilt. His heart frantically pounding, his stomach tense and flipping, bile rising in throat, and dark thoughts invading his mind. Steve kept a stoic face as the jet doors closed. His broad shoulders squared and not a single emotion on his face for the man he quite possibly killed in the bunker.

He looked out of place. Captain America without his shield. Decked out in full uniform but his idolized shield, gone. His blue eyes were the only way of seeing the millions of emotions flashing in his face. Steve turned to Bucky with a blank expression.

“Stark men are made of Iron. It’s Tony, he’ll be just fine, Buck. I know him,” He moved to start the jet and pilot them back to wherever they were going next. “Why are you worried? He was trying to kill you. We stopped him and I protected you. We have to go get the others now, so get buckled in.”

Bucky walked to one of the seats, strapping himself in one handed. He stared at the metal ground.

“I guess I just do,” He spoke softer. _I guess I just do, Stevie._ He couldn’t help it. All he could think of was Tony’s face while he watched the video.

Tony’s face when Steve lied to him.

_ Tony’s face when Steve crushed his chest._

He’d never forget a second of it. All permanently ingrained into his memory.

Every sound.

Every sight.

Tony Stark dying forever in his mind.

“That’s mighty nice of ya, but we got better things to focus on, Buck.” The jet rumbled as its engine burst to life. “We gotta get our friends back.”

Bucky frowned. _You mean your friends. _


	2. He's gone...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is coming to, but goes out as quick as he awoke. 
> 
> He catches word of a certain phrase that means he is not safe. 
> 
> Stephen understands that Iron Man is gone. 
> 
> Iron Man is Gone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added the translations for those who do not speak Russian. Russian is not my native language so please excuse any errors. Hope you enjoy. Trigger warning: Needles.

Cold.

Wet.

Tony jolted awake with a sputtering, harsh cough spitting the water away. He gasped through the tight pain that twisted in his chest. He blinked, taking in the bright light that blinded him.

The pain on his chest seemed to loosen a bit and wasn’t as tight as before. He felt way lighter and was relieved he wasn’t trapped in the suit.

Perhaps he was dead?

That theory was debunked quick when he felt a sharp pain in his arm. He squinted, looking down at his arm. There was now a tube sticking in his arm that was connected to a bag of clear fluid. He tried to move a bit but felt he was restrained in the position he was laying. He made a gurgled moan, twisting his arm in its restraint.

Everything felt very heavy and fuzzy to him. His head felt like cotton balls were stuffed in him. Limbs were tingly and thawing out from the previous cold. Vision was blurry from what seemed to be tears rolling down his cheeks, warm against his numb, frozen skin. He felt heavy but the same time couldn’t feel his own body.

“Он бодрствует, _[He’s awake]_” One of those deep voices he heard earlier spoke again. It was a bit understandable but still muffled from the pounding in his head. He tensed at the voices and tugged a bit more on his arm, trying to free it. It hardly budged and he just gave up.

“мы не готовы к ним, _[We’re not ready for him]_” the second voice spoke up a bit more.

He peeked over a bit, craning his neck to see the two men dressed in black. One man held a clipboard. In the far corner was a man in a long white coat. He was messing with some kinds of tubes and other bottles. One of the men crossed over to him when he made a gesture.

“положите его спать, _[Put him to sleep]_” the man in the lab coat spoke smoothly and softer than the other two men’s harsh words. They spoke as if they spat out the words to others. He grabbed the syringe from the man in the coat.

The man closest to Tony stepped closer, grabbing his neck roughly with a gloved hand. The press of the hand slowly cutting off his airway as he gasped a bit. Shifting, he tried to move away from the man to only have him press harder.

“перестань двигаться! _[Stop moving!]_” the man spat in Tony’s face. Tony flinched away from the warm, dripping saliva on his face. The man with the syringe approached Tony. The glisten of the needle tip in the light as he tested it, pushing a bit of liquid out as he flicked the metal.

“это только ущипнуть немного, _[It will just pinch a bit]_” the syringe was brought closer to his neck and the cold metal stopped against his neck, slightly pushing against his neck. “вы будете чувствовать себя только лучше, _[You’ll only feel better]_” the man grinned, and the sharp tip of the needle stabbed into his skin.

The liquid in the syringe was cold, freezing in his veins as he gasped for air when the other man moved his hand from his throat. The needle was slipped out of his neck and a cloth was dabbed over the skin where the needle was previously inserted.

He shivered under the restrained, twitching away. A small sob left his throat at the pain in his neck from the harsh needle.

The world became a little bit heavier, no longer comfortable for him. His eyes closed on their own account and he could feel his body numbing, becoming too heavy to move. He felt a hand pat over his chest. Very faint, very distant but noticeable due to the slight fading pain of it.

“Хайль Гидра, _[Hail Hydra]_”

That was the last thing he heard before he went under.

He didn’t know much, but he knew what that meant.

_He was not safe… Not safe at all…_

-

Stretches. This was the worst part of the physical therapy he had been going through.

His hands hurt, they hurt terribly.

He hissed as he extended his fingers slowly, the black straps creating tension to make the stretch difficult on his weak, trembling fingers. He’s done this a lot to know to keep going until his hand fully extends his hand out. The physical therapist next to him was on her phone, texting as her fingers moved frantically across the tiny keyboard. Stephen rolled his eyes, holding back a scoff.

_He couldn’t believe this was his therapist. He could do this better than her and he was a neurosurgeon. _

He grunted as his weak fingers curled back into a gentler, relaxed position, sharp pain shooting up his fingers. The therapist looked up when he grunted, almost looking annoyed with him.

“You must relax and focus on your muscles,” She added, before looking back down to finish her text.

“You think?” He tossed the sarcastic comment back before frowning at his scarred, trembling hands. The worthlessness of his hands as they no longer were fit for his career.

Focusing his mind elsewhere he thought of Tony. Tony would be back soon. He’s come home and help Stephen with the pains. Heating pads, massages, pain medications, and comfort.

Tony had been the first person to run through the door for Stephen. The only other person he was close to, besides Christine who was already at the hospital. Tony was very generous.

He helped with the costs so far. He paid for the emergency surgery as if it was just paying for a simple drink at a gas station. Tony was there for him as much as he could be, aside from the meeting, the accords, and the Avenger’s business. Tony had left his hospital a couple days ago, he explained about something taking place in Germany.

Tony promised he’d be back to help Stephen look into further surgeries to heal his hands. Tony had been very helpful with the research for procedures to fix his hands. He was even offering on starting a project to fix his hands permanently. The project was briefly paused as he had other things to work on, but he understood Tony was a very busy man.

He glanced up at the flat screen TV on the wall that was silently playing across from the table he sat at. There were small black boxed subtitles under the reported as he spoke. The subtitle across the screen is what made Stephen’s efforts to stretch his hand immediately close. His chest tightened at the headline of the screen.

_“Iron Man Missing,”_

It seemed unreal, unbelievable. _Iron Man gone? _Impossible. Tony Stark was Iron Man. Tony Stark doesn’t just disappear when a man like him has cameras on him every time he steps in public. Iron Man doesn’t just disappear. He frowned and turned to the Therapist.

“Turn on the sound,” The therapist looked up from her phone and frowned.

“The TV’s are supposed to stay turned down, Doctor.” She stated plainly to him.

“I. Said. Turn. The. TV. On.” Stephen spoke very slowly to the woman, already pained and aggravated. She glared at him before looking up to the TV screen. It took a moment, but the look on her face was just as surprised. She quickly scrambled to her feet to go grab the remote, shortly after the sound came on.

_“-nfamous Iron Man had last been seen at the Leipzig Airport going up against his former team which is currently in shambles. The media has come to dub this strife the ‘Civil War’. Media outlets have been erupted with claims that the former hero Iron Man has been missing since the battle. There have been no signs of contact from the man behind the mask, billionaire Tony Stark. It has been 37 hours since the battle and no signs of Iron Man have been released. Stark Industries is assigned to conduct a press conference within the next 24 hours to give an official statement on Tony Stark’s whereabouts. We will continue to provide coverage for the break news of Iron Man. Stay tuned for our next topics. Former celebrity Jo-” _The television had been muted. Stephen stared blankly ahead of him. The room was back to its quietness, but it wasn’t comfortable anymore.

Stephen sat there for a couple minutes, in shock. _Tony was missing. _Wouldn’t his AI have alerted someone. _Tony wasn’t really gone, was he? _

His trembling hands fumbled to tear off the stretching contraption that would exercise the muscles in his hands. Breathing a bit labored he pushed out from the chair he had been sitting on. He had to call Pepper, call Rhodey, call someone and see if this was even a real thing.

“Sir! Sir, you aren’t allowed to leave yet, you still have yet to complete the current exercise. Sir?!” He could hear the Therapist call after him as he stumbled to the door, quick to find Christine, to find a phone.

The room felt stuffy and he had trouble catching his breath for a moment. He made it into the hall, pushing past people as he rushed to the nearest nurse station. Pushing past Doctors, Nurses, and Patients- he had finally found Christine discussing a situation with a fellow colleague. He practically sighed with relief.

“Christine,” his voice was hoarse and cut off as he called to her. She lifted her head to his voice, looking over with a flash of worry.

“Stephen? What’s happ-” He cut her off quickly to explain.

“It’s Tony.” He closed the distance between them, speaking lowly to not draw attention of the nosey staff.

“What about him? What’s wrong?” She started to worry, understanding how much the man meant to her friend.

“H-He’s gone…” Stephen hardly got out over the bubbling emotions.

_He’s gone…? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are happily accepted. Drop a comment and let me know what you think, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks for reading. :)


	3. Sucicidal Tendencies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has lived 2 weeks in so far. 
> 
> Drugs and abuse from guards are a daily part of his life. Only the beginning to his Hydra training. 
> 
> Steve is with him? Is it all real? He promises freedom so it must be good, right? He could trust him. 
> 
> Freedom is near for him, but he's taken from it quickly. 
> 
> Maybe he's not ready for freedom yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As said before, I don't speak Russian. Not my native language. I provided translations for those of you who don't speak it either. I hope you'll like this chapter, Its a bit longer than the others. 
> 
> Trigger Warning: Attempted suicide, Head trauma, Hallucinations, Violence.

** _ Two weeks later _ **

When he started to come to, it seemed to be a process.

Slowly but surely, excruciatingly slow and painful. So here he was, lying on his side, on the makeshift cot with dirty sheets, completely alone.

It had become the normal for him now. It has been two and a half weeks since he had been picked up from the bunker.

Two and a half weeks of constant, nonstop torture. His first few nights were spent recovering from the bunker. _Thank god for the massive amounts of Morphine they had been giving him. _He was sure he couldn’t stand the pain at all. So, give or take a couple days, he tried his first attempt at an escape.

He had a full-fledged plan, every step, all the elements ready to be perfectly executed. He was a genius after all, surely, he could outsmart a couple drunk Russians with guns. So, perhaps he may have exaggerated on how well he could get out of the room. He wasn’t sure if it was his clouded drugged brain or his weak body that slowed him down, but it didn’t work.

To put it out bluntly, he got shot.

So yeah, not that all ideal.

He definitely wasn’t expecting to be running down the hall only to smack against the tile full forced when his leg gave out. Also wasn’t expecting to feel warm blood pooling around his foot.

So yeah, great start to his first few nights with the assholes. At least they helped him. It has been 2 weeks and he still hasn’t understood a word that has been said to him. This infuriates the staff at the facility.

He’s certainly been roughed up more than once for either; looking at them wrong, saying something wrong, or doing something wrong. Every move he makes, he must calculate the consequences. It sounds stupid but he’d like to keep the pain to a minimal.

The only words that he has come to understand are, “Нет, Остановить, Энтони” which translate out to, _“No, Stop, Anthony.” _These were the only few words he could pick up on. Everything was always foggy for him with all the drugs he had in his system.

He really just wanted to go home. He wanted to see the people he knows. To see Rhodey, see Pepper, see Peter, and see _Stephen. _

There was always that constant thought that Stephen may think Tony abandoned him. He always felt a twinge in his chest at that. He wanted to call out for the man, to let him know he didn’t give up. That he was still thinking about him. The four people constantly on his mind. His family, the only reason he was trying his hardest to endure and get out.

He often thought of the warmth of them, their voices. He could sometimes hear them talking. They weren’t here. At least he thinks they weren’t. It seemed very real, so real that he may or may not have started talking back.

Tony tries to keep the volume down, being ‘mindful of his neighbors.’ The last time he was talking, someone came in yelling at him in Russian and eventually electrocuted him.

Yeah, that didn’t feel good. The torture was kept to a minimum for the moment, but that was never a good sign. At least in Afghanistan they didn’t tease. He knew more was to come. Two weeks was a short time span, but seemed like a year to Tony, almost months sometimes if he was drugged enough.

The room he was forced into wasn’t something you’d get at a hotel. Service was shit; he’s definitely going to leave a shitty review on Yelp for this. 0/10, would never suggest.

The room was stuffy, no circulation it seemed. He couldn’t spot a vent, there was no windows either. If there was windows or vents, he’d be long gone from here. The room was completely dark except for the one flickering lightbulb that swayed slowly back and forth or his arc reactor. On nights he couldn’t sleep, he’d watch the lightbulb sway until the drugged blacked him out.

He was almost never off the drugs they had. He was always being poked and prodded at with sharp needles. After the first week, he had gotten over the sharp pinch every time a needle was jammed into his body. They were very clear with proving a point, at some points just stabbing him. If he even dared to make a noise that they didn’t appreciate, they would simply just stab into his veins further and wiggle the sharp needle tip around to discomfort him.

No matter how much he cried, no one would turn a head to him. They seriously didn’t care at all. At least the Afghan terrorists cared about him. Those guys gave him food, water, an actual bed, a place to relieve himself.

Well, Hydra actually treated him a bit nice at first, but Tony ruined that for himself when they noticed he would try to escape every chance he got, considering why he’s so drugged he could hardly feel his fingertips or toes.

He was offered an actual toilet; they would give him 2 bathroom breaks a day. But that privilege was lost. Apparently having a toilet was a privilege. He tried to run away. Another time he smashed the glass to the mirror and tried to shank the guy who came in for him. Terrible plan, he didn’t even puncture the vest. He really just ended up cutting his hand open.

The consequence for that was to let it heal improper. They had shoved him back in the room and let him bleed by himself. Tony used his sheets the tighten the wound and stop the bleeding. He resorted to tearing the fabric and using it as a bandage. It was still healing, slightly scabbed.

So, the next time they had given him a bucket in the corner of the room. He had pretended to appreciate it, but the moment that heavy metal door closed he was already formulating ideas on how to use it to his ability. Sure enough, that bucket was taken from him the next day when he tried to smash the guards head in and cut him with one of the metal edges he sharpened on the concrete. He really wished he didn’t do that. He couldn’t move for a full two days after the drugs and beatings. The assholes actually let him sit in his own piss on the floor. He was left to sit in the warm bodily fluid until it eventually turned cold and he was left shaking. Once again, the drugs over-took him. At least when he woke up, they cleaned the piss. But, the punishment for peeing himself was no clothes.

So, he has been naked for over 5 days. It’s very cold and exposing. Nakedness never bothered him before. He was once okay with being naked. Comfortable even, hell you could find plenty of naked picture of him on the internet, just a couple clicks away. But now he can’t stand being naked. He feels uncomfortable with the way the guards have had lingering stares at his body. He had been grabbed a couple times, groped in places that didn’t please him, but he couldn’t tell them no. He was always drugged or too weak to move his body.

The drugs are very strong at first, but he’s subtly noticed different drugs do different things. Some stop the pain, some put him to sleep, some even made him hurt all over and make him see things that weren’t there. He desperately wanted the drugs to stop.

He lost his voice just recently actually. Well, not completely. More like nothing would come out if he tried to talk. It wasn’t the drugs that had caused that, or even the torture. Tony had lost his voice to screaming. He has spent days and days screaming from help, crying, and weakly banging on the walls. He would spend hours screaming. Eventually, he’d either tire himself out or someone would come and shut him up.

The cot he had been laying on was warm from the body heat. The cot did a good job of stealing his heat from his body. He could hardly stay warm sometimes. There were no vents in the room, so it seemed stupid that the room was always cold. But he concluded that they were probably somewhere north from the bunker, perhaps somewhere in Russia considering all the people he had seen that only speak Russian so far. The concrete was good at collecting cold air in its darkness.

He reached up with unsteady hands and wiped his eyes. His fingers felt numb again, almost always did. Everything was relaxing with the drugs slowly fading from his system. He could feel his legs again, wiggling his toes occasionally to see if he wasn’t going paralyzed. He closed his eyes, letting a small sob leave his throat hoarsely.

_“Are you seriously crying?”_ His eyes shot open and he gasped a bit. A voice? Who was here with him? Someone was here? He looked around the dim room, adjusting his eyes by wiping tears away.

“H-Hello…?” His voice was scratchy and cut off. He left hand clutched the cot underneath him, his heart hammering against the metal cylinder in his chest.

_“I can’t believe you’re crying! I thought ‘Stark men don’t cry’? Wow, you’re pretty pathetic, huh?”_ His eyes fell on a tall, blonde man. It took a millisecond for him to recognize that face. The man he had fought. His friend? The ‘Man with a plan’, Steve…

“St-Steve?” It came out as more of a choked off gasp. He scooted back on the cot until his bare back hit the cold wall.

_“No nicknames this time, Stark?” _Steve walked forward and sat across from Tony. _“Jeez, ya look like crap and smell like it too. Not in a good place?” _Steve looked around the room.

Tony remained quiet, staring at the Captain in slight awe. The man who had left him to die was here. Was he back to help? He was going to be saved?! This was it, if anyone had a plan it would be Steve. Sure, he was mad at Steve- he’d fry his stupid, perfect face off when he got out of this damn room. But that could wait, he was going to follow Steve’s plan and make it out! He was going to see Rhodey and Pepper and Peter and Stephen. Everything was going to be okay again.

He felt a giddy feeling bubble in his chest. Maybe from excitement- or maybe he was going to vomit. He couldn’t tell, having a difficult time focusing on the feeling at the idea of freedom. Was this what freedom felt like? So overwhelming that he was going to vomit on his own chest, that he could run a million miles, that he was warmer?

“What’s your p-plan?” He tilted his head in anticipation, awaiting the Captain’s orders.

_“Very simple plan, it’s gonna get ya back on home to us. You have to listen closely of course; we can’t mess the plan up.” _Tony nodded eagerly, ignoring the pounding in his head, right behind his eyes.

_“All ya have to do is listen carefully. Get up off your cot and strip the sheets.” _Steve smiled. _“You can do it, Tony. We’re counting on ya.”_ Tony slowly lifted himself off the cot. His weak, trembling body fighting against the fading drugs to move. He had to do it for the Captain. For his team. For his family. Everyone was counting on him. He smiled at Steve. Since when did he smile at the guy who tried to murder him with his friend? Probably since the man was the only one to come back and promise his freedom. He could kiss the asshole he was so happy.

He now stood awkwardly by the cot, coldness hitting areas of his body that didn’t comfort him. He whimpered at the loss of warmth and the pain in his lungs. He whimpered? God, he must sound so pathetic. No wonder Steve thinks he stupid.

He started to yank the polyester sheets off the stupid cot that did no good in keeping him comfortable the whole two weeks he had been in the room. The sheets were clutched tightly in his numb hands. He met the Captain’s sharp blue-eyed gaze.

_“I want you to take those sheets and make a knotted hole at the end of it. Make sure its decently sized to get this to work.” _Tony looked at the sheets in his hand.

“How big is decently sized?”

_“’bout the size of your thigh, your neck really.” _ Tony hesitated before bringing the fabric around his neck like a scarf. The longer end of the sheet that wasn’t being knotted around his neck, laying on the floor in a puddle of cloth. Steve crossed his arms across his broad chest and smiled. _“You can do it, we’re almost done. You’re gonna make it out of here. Till the end of the line,” _the last part of the sentence seemed to be a bit cut off.

Tony now had the sheet knotted around his neck, almost like a collar. He picked up the longer pooled up end of the sheet and then looked back up to his former leader.

_“Good, Good. Nice job, now you go and tie the edge of the sheet to the door handle. Make sure you get it nice and tight.” _Tony made his way across the cold concrete to stop in front of the giant metal door. He wrapped the sheet in the vertical metal handle and knotted it the best he could with his weak strength like Steve had told him. When he looked back at Steve, Steve was smiling.

_“Almost there, Tones. Stick with me here. All ya gotta do is run and pull. I promise it’s going to be okay. It’ll hurt at first, but you’ll only feel better.” _That was it? Just run and pull on the sheets and he’d be free? Would it open the door? Was this the way to do it, to use all his body weight and perhaps the door would budge open? He took a deep breath and nodded, closing his eyes.

He stood for a moment. He was close to freedom. No more pain. No more suffering. No more anything. He could move on and rest. He would be able to see his family and friends. Things could be fixed. He could apologize for his behavior. He would have his team back. He could have it all back again. Everything will be okay.

He finally gained his bearings and took a deep breath. He turned his back to the door, the sheets scratching against his abused throat. He forced himself to move, taking off as fast as he could away from the door. His feet slapping against the pavement lightly as he ran. He felt a bit of freedom already. Running made him feel alive, even if it was a crappy drug induced stumble.

It was all whisked away when he was completely dropped off his feet. A sharp gasp as the fabric yanked against his throat and he crumbled to the ground. He tried to breathe but the air had been knocked out of his lungs and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath anymore. He sobbed as the fabric constricted his airway. His weight yanked against the sheets as he slowly choked himself. He was weak and trembling. He couldn’t breath and could hardly call for help. He looked to Steve.

Steve was blurry now, blending with tears and messy greys of the concrete in his watering eyes.

_“You’re doing so good. You’re winning, Tony. You’re almost there, almost free. You can rest soon.” _Tony gasped but no air entered his airway. Things became a bit blurrier and his ears were ringing slightly.

The only sounded in the isolated room were Tony’s choked off cries and deep, painful gasps. He grasped out towards “Steve” on the concrete, scraping his nails. Collecting dirt and blood on them.

Things were moving fast for him, it seemed weird. But in reality, he could understand that things must be moving way slower than they really were. Maybe it was because he was trying to acquire this promised freedom? Maybe it was the drugs and the adrenaline making it very fast.

He could hardly hear anything, missing the sharp knocks on the door.

“Что ты делаешь идиот? _[What are you doing, idiot?]_” A voice yelled through the door, there was the faint jingle of keys, more knocking, and locks clicking out of place.

Tony continued to gasp, clawing at his damaged throat and desperately gasping for air. He continued to pull away from the door more, trying to get freedom before he could be taken back. He was so close, his vision already fading a black color. Just a bit further. A little more and he could rest.

The door was slammed open and a man with a gun stomped in. The sheets loosened then the door was slammed open and Tony collapsed forward, gasping at the rush of air that made him lightheaded.

“ты пытался убить себя? _[You tried to kill yourself?]_” The man growled out and kicked Tony in the side of his head with his boot roughly. He could feel the man spit on his exposed back side. He cried out, strangled and his vision blacked over for a moment. He writhed on the cold concrete, cowering away from the man. When he opened his eyes, through blurry, blacked vision he could see Steve was not there anymore.

“потерять свой ум? _[Losing your mind?]_” The man crouched beside Tony, loosening the sheets from his neck. Tony whimpered, which earned him a head slam against the concrete. More choked off sobs and pleas for it all to stop.

“это только начало, _[This is just the beginning…]_” The man grabbed him by his sweat dampened hair and lifted his face from the small spots of blood coming from his mouth and nose. He had a wicked grin on his face as he lifted his gun and smashed it into Tony’s head.

And that was it.

Darkness overtook him.

_Was this the freedom he was promised…?_

_At least he could enjoy it while it lasted. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos happily accepted. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. Sorry for any gross triggering stuff, but you know, Hydra. Eww, Hydra. Leave a comment on your thoughts or anything and I'll get back to ya. :)


	4. Mission Report: December 16th, 1991

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is punished for trying to kill himself. 
> 
> He witnesses something he never wanted to see ever again. 
> 
> But this time, this time he can't look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Electric shock, Non consensual drug use, Physical abuse, Mental abuse, Gasoline.
> 
> Please pay attention to the warning for any triggering content. 
> 
> I have put translations for those who do not speak Russian, again, Russian is not my native language so forgive me for any mistakes.

“What do you want from me?!!!” He sobbed as he yanked the restraints that man had been placing him in. Voice had been hoarse from previously screaming and strangling himself.

The straps tightened harder, crushing his wrists against the metal arms of the chair. He was no longer naked, shoved in some kind of hospital gown.

“Вы ошиблись, _[You’re wrong.]_” The man tapped the side of his bruised head with his hand. Tony hissed at the sharp pain, the pounding in his head never stopping. He clenched his fists and tensed under the restraints.

The room was a bit brighter, LED lights shinning on him. The room was white walled, tile that was chipping and dirty. He could swear that’s blood on the floor. He gulped and squeezed his eyes shut.

Anywhere but here. He’d love to be anywhere but here. Please.

_Stephen._ Yes, think of something other than this. Stephen is a nice subject. He could really use the body warmth from the man. He missed those bright blue-green eyes. The man’s soothing deep voice, unlike the harsh voices they used at the facility. He missed the gentle touches rather than the rough grabs and inappropriate touches he had been receiving.

He was also wondering where Steve went. Maybe they caught him too? Pulled him away before Tony could open his eyes again? Steve was there, wasn’t he? He was helping him, right?

“вы собираетесь быть наказаны, _[You’re going to be punished.]_” Tony opened his eyes to the words. He didn’t fully understand. It angered him he couldn’t communicate. Couldn’t hear what the people were saying to him, what they were going to do. This bubbled an anger in his chest, and he took shaky breaths.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!!!!” He cried out as he bucked under the restraints. “P-Please… Just let me go…” He sobbed, laying his head back against the uncomfortable plastic of the chair that was supposedly meant to provide comfort. He continued to choke out sobs, hiccups and whimpers as he shook weakly under the restraints.

The guard watched him unamused.

“ты слаб _[You’re weak.]_” The man spoke as he busied himself with the metal cart, he had rolled in. “Ты мститель? _[You’re a vigilante?]_” He made a scoff noise and turned to him with a small eye drop bottle. Tony gasped and thrashed to move away, the chair not budging. “Плакса. _[Crybaby.]_”

The man grabbed Tony by the jaw roughly in his gloved hand. Tony must’ve made a noise from it because the man squeezed harder on his jaw.

“заткнись! _[Shut up!]_” the man yelled at him. Tony went slack, went submissive under the man’s grip. He knew better than to test the men. They were much stronger than he was drugged. Way stronger.

He was grabbed by the hair to look up at the man. His eyes watering a bit as he met the gaze of the man. The gloved hand, held his eyelids open, cold liquid dropping in. Tony flinched a bit at the liquid, some of it rolling down his cheek and warming up. The same was done to his other eye.

“Please s-stop… Please,” He whined pathetically, knowing the man wouldn’t care. He let the liquid fall down his cheeks, the rest staying in his eyes and mixing with the tears.

Proparacaine.

It took a few moments for it to work, but he suddenly couldn’t feel his eyes anymore. They were open, he could see. But he couldn’t feel them. He whimpered.

“W-What did you do to me…?” he could feel his eyes blur with tears.

The man ignored him, pushing a television on a cart in front of the chair Tony was restrained to.

“готовы веселиться? _[Ready to have fun?]_” The man grabbed a black remote from the cart and walked to Tony. Tony was grabbed by the hair and the man pulled the metal device by the head rest down, the device locking Tony’s head in place.

He could no longer see around the room, only where his eyes could go. The man held each of his eye lids open and clipped something that pinched slightly but he could hardly feel it at all. He tried to squirm and move from the chair, not budging at all. He was completely restrained from the head to the legs.

“вы собираетесь смотреть видео, _[You are going to watch the video.]_” Tony had no idea what he said, but the man turned the TV on across from him, the screen flickering to life. It was a bright blue screen with the words ‘Stop’ in the corner with a square. When the man pressed another button the television screen went black before the video came to life.

Tony could smell the fumes before it happened. The man grabbed his jaw and opened his mouth, stuffing a rag in his mouth.

He suddenly gagged at the very bitter taste of the gasoline doused rag. His body shook with each gag, eyes watering from the fumes. The gasoline mixing with his saliva while he refused to swallow.

“16 Декабря 1991, _[December 16th, 1991]_” The man announced deeply. Tony tensed, crumbling to the torture. It didn’t take an idiot to understand that phrase. He knew that date, like he knew his name. The date of his parents’ death, the date the Winter Soldier murder his parents. He sobbed around the rag in his mouth, trying to close his eyes but being held back from doing so. No matter the movements, the cries, or the pleas, they wouldn’t let him go.

In the corner in white letters was the date, the time, and the camera number. _7:00 pm, Dec.16th 1991, Cam 3._ The road was what was seen. Seconds later the car slamming into the wall. He flinched, whimpering because he couldn’t close his eyes. His heart pounding against the reactor. The gasoline making him gag and the fumes burning his lungs. Then the bike passing the car after it slammed. A fire starts over the crushed hood of the car, the bike returns on screen, turning towards the back of the car his parents were in. He finally swallowed his saliva, gagging violently as a bit of bile started to bubble and rise up his throat, burning.

His father out of the car, climbing away a bit, the Winter Soldier approaching him as he tried to crawl away. Warm tears leaked from his eyes. He wanted to look away. He couldn’t bare to watch this again. His soft sobbing was muffled by the bitter rag as he felt lightheaded from the fumes.

When the Soldier lifted his father’s head, at his mother’s cry, he vomited violently. The rag slipped out and vomit coated the front of his body, the hospital gown and all down his chin. Another wave of the burning acid like substance rose from his throat in a gag and poured from his mouth, running down his body and pooling in his lap. The warm vomit sitting on him, cooling against his chin. He sobbed around the burning sensation in his throat and watched the winter soldier smash his father’s face in with his fist. The man picked up the rag, now coated in his own vomit and saliva, balling it up and shoving it back in his mouth.

The Winter Soldier dragged his father’s dead body back into the car, shoving him in the seat as his head laid against the steering wheel. Yet another inhale of fumes as he listened to his mother’s helpless cries for his dead father. He swallowed the taste of gasoline and the vomit in his burning throat, trying to hold down the next wave of vomit from joining the already leaking and drying vomit in his lap, warming his legs.

He watched the Soldier strangle his mother. He felt a piece of him crumble. A piece of him gone and missing as he watched the Soldier kill her slowly.

That was it, the Soldier stepped in front of the camera and raised his pistol, the shot cutting the feed. The screen went black and Tony released a burning, strangled sob from behind the rag.

“Вы хотите, чтобы ваша мать? _[You want your mother?]_” The man got close to his ear, talking harsh and loudly. “Ваш отец? _[Your father?]_”

Tony gagged and vomited behind the rag, vomit collecting in his mouth. He gagged again and felt the burning liquid get caught in his throat. He jolted his body, trying to breathe around the vomit, choking.

“они мертвы! _[They’re dead!]_” the man yelled before tearing the rag out of his throat.

He coughed violently with a choked off gag, vomit pouring out of his mouth that was collected behind the rag. It pooled on his lap and on his chest, warmer that the chilling, old vomit. He continued to cough violently and finally gasped a breath through the burning in his throat.

He laid limply in the chair, covered in his own vomit, throat burning as he caught his breath. The man moved from him and messed with a machine to his right somewhere. He could smell faint smoke and it made him gag more, already sensitive to the gasoline in his throat and mouth. He felt something cold press against his temples and he tried to move away.

“перестань двигаться! _[Stop moving!]_” The man’s voice was a bit muffled as if he had something in his mouth as he pressed the cold objects against his temple harder. The television flickered again, and the video started. Tony sobbed, drooling on his chin. The man grunted in aggravation,

Tony felt a sharp burn against his cheek, the man had taken the cigarette out of his mouth and pressed the lit tip against his cheek. Tony flinched and cried, trying to back away. The cigarette burned his skin and the man dug the end against his cheek, leaving a bright, red burn and ashes smeared on his sweat soaked face.

“Я сказал Заткнись, _[I said shut up.]_” The video continued to play while the man yelled at him.

“P-Please…” It was hoarse and hardly could be heard over the amount of vomit, saliva, and gasoline in his mouth and throat. The man shook his head and stuffed the rag back in his mouth, muffling his crying.

“ты не умный совсем, _[You’re not smart at all.]_” the man flicked the burnt-out cigarette into his lap with the vomit that was drying and cold. “ты слаб и глуп, _[You’re weak and stupid.]_” The man walked back over to the small machine and messed with the controls.

Everything hurt now. His cheek was on fire and burned, he couldn’t hold it. His tears were pouring down his cheek, mixing with the burn and ashes on his cheek making it painful. His throat was burning, and he desperately needed water. The sensation making his throat feel closed and fiery hot.

It looped to the part where the Soldier was murdering his mother, he wasn’t prepared for happened.

The man turned on a button of some sort on the machine and shocked Tony.

The shock tensed his entire body, his muscles twitching and tightening. He gasped behind the rag and tried to cry out. His body remained tense, the sharp pain of the electricity still feeling as if it was jolting through his body. He couldn’t see for a moment, the world blurry with tears and vision blackened. He bit down roughly on the bitter rag and yelled.

The Winter Soldier shooting the camera.

The TV going black.

TV flickering to the beginning of the video.

It starts all over again.

He couldn’t stand the pounding in his head, the blurred vision from tears and shock. He kept watching, forced against his will. Crying and vomiting every so often. He remained tense and kept feeling the sharp pains. His muscles twitching and tightening.

He shook and tried not to slip away. He could feel his mind losing itself. His consciousness fading. Fading like the drugs have done many times before.

“ты не достоин Старк, _[You’re not worthy of Stark.]_” That was one of the las things he heard.

His mother’s cry.

His father’s face bashed in.

The man talking.

The world fading.

Fading…

Before it all was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't feel too sad, "This is only the beginning", Hydra has a lot in store for Tony Stark. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, Leave a comment, Leave Kudos. I'll get back to ya soon.


	5. The Start Of His "Treatment"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen Attends Tony's funeral.
> 
> He his leaving to Kamar-Taj with one last goodbye.
> 
> Tony is tortured and rethinks his new life.
> 
> The Serum will start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak Russian, not my native language. I put translations for y'all. The torture song, if you're interested in it is: "Dancing Queen, by ABBA." A subtle mention of rape in this chapter.

** _ 4 weeks later _ **

The funeral was long over.

Stephen stood alone. 

It has been 4 weeks since the disappearance of Tony Stark. Since his lover had gone.

Tony left in promises of returning. To come back and help him. To hold him. Cherish him. Care for him.

He was never going to get that back.

Ever.

The sky was a darker grey. It was chilly aired and wet from the rain. It was sprinkling lightly. The green grass healing over his grave like a scab. Stephen was wearing a jacket, weakly clutching the bouquet of flowers in his trembling hand.

He had a tombstone. He had a service. He was gone. Dead.

Stephen inhaled sharply to stop the gut-wrenching sickness at the thought of his dead lover.

_Anthony Edward Stark_

_1970-2016_

That was it. It pushed him over and Stephen collapsed to his knees.

It was difficult for Stephen to grasp at first. They found out of it when SHIELD sent agents to go after the supposed Hydra Bunker with left over Winter Soldier experiments. They found the dead Soldiers. But most importantly, they found him. They found his helmet. _His blood. _

Stephen didn’t want to believe this. He demanded to see his lover’s body. There was no way that Tony Stark died. No way at all. It took until the second week for him to finally come to his senses a bit. Pepper and Rhodey spoke with him about the service. He hated hearing it.

_He was._

_I remembered when he._

_Tony was. _

_He loved._

No, damn it! That wasn’t true. He wasn’t dead.

They were his friends. The closet thing he had to family. They just believe Fury because he came up to them with photos of Tony’s blood, the broken helmet, and samples of his blood.

No. Tony was stronger than this. He was Iron Man. Iron Man doesn’t die. He can’t die. The world needs him. Stephen needs him.

The rain picked up a bit, poring down his body. It was cold, his pants muddy with the rain. The grave was wet, muddy, water sinking into the empty casket below them. Stephen lifted a wet hand to wipe his face.

“I- Anthony. I’m sorry…” Stephen choked out through a wet sob. He reached out, weakly grasping the cold, wet tombstone. “Please…I’m sorry.”

Stephen closed his eyes, keeping close as he listened to the rain fall. The graveyard was empty. No one except him, crying over his supposed dead boyfriend. He placed the roses on the front of the grave.

_Roses. _

_Those were what he brought to Stephen’s office their first date night. _

Tony went cliché and brought roses for Stephen. Every date, he’d get a new bouquet of roses to go in his house. He kept them all; sitting on his dresser in his bedroom. A reminder of Tony. When he had moved into the compound, on Tony’s personal floor, Tony had started to get roses to him every day. Stephen would tell him he hated it. _He didn’t. _It meant so much to him.

After Stephen’s crash, he continued to bring roses. Christine brought him daisies. Tony insisted on roses. That was _their _flower. It meant the world to him.

When Tony was gone, the roses wouldn’t come that day. Only Tony wanted to give them to Stephen. He loved to see Stephen’s face when he got them. Even if it was a fond eyeroll, it was his love. It warmed him to see it.

So, the day that Stephen came back to find roses in the room, he broke the vase and burned the roses. He locked himself away and cried. He grieved and mourned. All the pent-up feeling released; it was what broken the dam.

The flowers continued to come even though Tony wasn’t there to give them to him.

And every day, he’d go burn them. He stopped crying after a while.

The roses slowly losing their meaning…

He wasn’t sure he wanted roses anymore.

When they buried him, casket was filled to the brim with roses. _Tony not there. _

Stephen continued to look for procedures to fix his hands. He refused to use Tony’s money. Pepper offered all the time, but he continued to refuse. That wasn’t his money to use.

He used his own money but was running out of options fast. He finally talked to Jonathan Pangborn, a man who was formally paralyzed for answers on how to fix his hands. He caught word of Kamar-Taj. A place in Kathmandu that would help him fix his hands. The treatment was definitely experimental, but he was willing to give it a try. It was his last chance at having his job back, his life, his hands.

He was leaving in just hours to go to catch his flight. He was sure that Pepper was not too happy with his decision of leaving after Tony’s death. Rhodey understood him. He was paralyzed from the waist down after all, but he still got around thanks to a product Tony made. Tony was in the process of designing something for his hands, but Stephen didn’t need that. Stephen needed a medical specialist to properly preform the procedure.

“I-I’m leaving…” Stephen spoke softly. He knew Tony wasn’t there. He was talking to the air. To nothing but a rock with a name carved in it and a pile of dirt. “It’s probably what’s best for me. I don’t entirely know what’s best for me, you would know that. But, I’m sure on this decision. I know I’ve made a lot of dumb decisions and claimed it was best for me. I know this procedure is the one. It’s going to fix me. If not, I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself, Anthony.”

The only answer back was more rain. The sound of a few birds in the tree nearby.

Stephen sighed, not caring to wipe the tears running down his cheeks.

“I’d like for you to know; I don’t believe you’re gone.” He took a sharp inhale. “I love you, Anthony.” He took another deep breath, looking away from his lover’s grave.

“Oh God,” He mumbled, and he pulled his hand away from the tombstone. “No, No, No.” He felt his chest tighten with pain. A small sob left him again.

“T-This is my fault.” He closed his eyes, blinking away the tears and rain.

“Why? Why did you think you could do this? WHY?” he felt anger boiling inside him despite the cold rain. “Don’t give me that stupid shit either, Stark! You self-sacrificing piece of shit boyfriend! Why?! Why do you always put others before yourself?” He slammed his fist against the dirt. He took a deep inhale, holding it before exhaling.

“You were supposed to come back. You promised me damn it. I need you now more than ever. I can’t do it anymore. Please, Anthony.” He closed his eyes, refusing to look at the carved name once more.

“I-I’m sorry. T-Tony, please. Please come back, I can’t. I-” Stephen was hyperventilating, mumbling quick apologies to the ground. _To Tony. _

“I-I have to go…” He turned away, knowing he would regret it. Knowing Tony would hate him for this. Knowing he was going to hate himself for it too.

So, he did it anyway.

He turned and left to catch the cab.

He was going to fix this.

_But first, he’ll need to fix himself._

\---------------

** _You can dance,_ **

** _You can jive,_ **

** _Having the time of your life,_ **

Tony sobbed, laying on his side. This was the 208th time the song has restarted.

Over. And over.

And over.

His head was pounding from the electric shocks he received earlier.

Now, he numbly laid on his side. The concrete chilling him to the bone. Tears running down his cheeks, eyes blurry with water.

** _See that girl,_ **

** _Watch that scene, _ **

** _Diggin’ the dancing queen,_ **

He has been here 4 weeks. He doesn’t like it.

He now has a Doctor that keeps him.

Doctor Krovopuskov.

This was his handler. That’s what they called them.

He would be _taken care of _by the Handler who gave him what he deemed fit for Tony at that time.

Right now, He wasn’t allowed to have a bed. He hasn’t eaten in a week. He had hot water to drink almost two days ago.

** _Friday night and the lights are low,_ **

** _Looking out for a place to go,_ **

** _Where they play the right music, _ **

** _Getting into swing, _ **

** _You come to look for a king,_ **

He called the room, Chair.

There is a room that his handler will take him to where they will teach him what is new.

What is needed.

What is necessary.

He has been told to forget everything he is, was, or ever will be.

He refuses, but now it feels like this is working.

** _Anybody can be that guy,_ **

** _Night is young and the music’s high,_ **

** _With a bit of rock music,_ **

He had gotten a new name.

A new symbol.

A new him.

To his handler, Tony Stark is no more.

The people at the facility call him _Asset._

However, his name is longer. Too complicated to say all the time. Asset was short, simple, to the point.

It was what made him, him.

What made him belong.

What made him feel again.

He was reborn here.

** _Everything is fine,_ **

** _You’re in the mood for a dance,_ **

** _And when you get the chance,_ **

The name was given to him after he had to watch the _video._

Somewhere during the time, he passed out from the electric shock.

When he woke up, there it was.

9-18-15-14 / 13-1-14

It was tattooed on his arm. He didn’t notice it until he moved from the vomit on the floor. He caught sight of the numbers. Printed right across his forearm. He almost threw up at the sight of it.

** _You’re the dancing queen,_ **

** _Young and sweet,_ **

** _Only seventeen,_ **

** _Dancing queen,_ **

He decoded it quite quickly.

_Iron Man._

He was still named Iron Man. But they would rather call him Asset.

He hated the numbers.

The sight of the numbers made him sick.

It reminded him of the holocaust.

It also reminded him that he was now a piece of property.

** _Feel the beat from the tambourine,_ **

** _You can dance,_ **

** _You can jive,_ **

** _Having the time of your life,_ **

He wasn’t free anymore. He wasn’t his own person.

He had no rights.

He had nothing.

No one.

This was his barcode. The numbers were his everything. His life revolved around the numbers on his arm.

** _See that girl,_ **

** _Watch that scene,_ **

** _Diggin’ the dancing queen,_ **

He spent time alone.

THIS STUPID FUCKING SONG NEVER STOPPED PLAYING.

EVERY SINGLE DAY.

EVERY HOUR.

EVERY SECOND.

He had no one.

His guards.

His handler.

And… Steve?

** _You’re a teaser, you turn ‘em on,_ **

** _Leave ‘em burning and then you’re gone,_ **

** _Looking out for another,_ **

Yes, Steve.

As crazy as it sounds, Steve has been there for him.

He doesn’t exactly know why. Or how. It just happens.

People he knows drop by very often to see him.

He must be okay if they are here for him.

Even though they didn’t help him away from the guards when he was screaming their names for help.

But they were there to talk, so that was nice.

** _Anyone will do, _ **

** _You’re in the mood for a dance,_ **

** _And when you get the chance,_ **

_“Hey Tony,” _There they were again. Steve.

“C-Cap…?” He weakly lifted his head from the rough concrete.

_“Yeah, Hey. How are you feeling today?” _He was still wearing his uniform. _Did he always have it on?_ Come to think of it, he hasn’t seen Steve in anything else so far.

“N-No…” Tony mumbled, laying his head back down.

_“Not good, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon. You’ll be able to leave soon.” _He smiled weakly at Steve. Even if it was a smile. More like a grimace.

Steve was great at motivating. It’s why he was the team leader. He had good plans too.

There was something about seeing Steve though, like he was forgetting something. Something that made him a bit angry. But as soon as Steve started talking to him, the anger would usually fade away as quick as it came.

** _You are the dancing queen,_ **

** _Young and sweet,_ **

** _Only seventeen, _ **

“When…?” He asked weakly.

_“Soon Tony, soon.” _Steve was sitting beside his head.

Tony sobbed when he heard those words.

It was always soon.

Steve never had an actual time for him to get out. It was always soon.

Soon.

Soon.

Soon.

Steve offered a smile. That’s all he did. Smile with those stupid perfect teeth. Reassure him. Be nice. Give advice.

SOON?! HE DIDN’T HAVE UNTIL SOON!

HE NEEDED OUT RIGHT NOW!

RIGHT NOW!

RIGHT NOW!

RIGHT NOW!

** _Dancing queen,_ **

** _Feel the beat from the tambourine,_ **

He wanted the song to stop.

Yes, he’s got the point.

Dancing, yeah, yeah, yeah.

He could dance if he wanted to. Moving was hard.

He hurt.

** _You can dance,_ **

** _You can jive,_ **

** _Having the time of your life,_ **

Steve was gone now.

Who knows when he left?

He came and left as he pleased.

Tony was forced to stay.

To listen to the same song 24/7. To eat the soggy bread, they gave him. To drink the warm water. To relieve himself in the corner if he could even get up to do so that day. To sleep alone on the floor.

Stuck for however long ‘soon’ was.

** _See that girl,_ **

** _Watch that scene,_ **

** _Diggin' the dancing queen,_ **

Tony moved to sit up.

He learned to listen for the guards over the music.

It was a different beat from the song.

He learned by the light that peaked under the door too.

He weakly pushed himself off the floor to stand.

He unconsciously flattened out the thin boxers they gave him to ‘keep warm.’

A knock at the door.

** _See that girl,_ **

** _Watch that scene,_ **

** _Diggin' the dancing queen,_ **

“актив, готов к обучение? _[Asset, ready for training?]_” The door opened as the recording of the song finally stopped.

Tony stood as straight as he could when his body felt heavy and weak.

His eyes were droopy, and he had spots in his vision. His head pounded, telling him he needed to sit before he was going to pass out.

“Да, сэр, _[Yes sir.]_” He spoke hoarsely.

“вы только бы ты умер в этом бункере, _[You’ll only wish that you died in that bunker.]_” The man smirked and raised his gun at Tony, making a motion for Tony to step with him.

Tony could only do things on command.

Last time he moved without command; he was _hurt._

The man touched him in an area he did not like.

He cried. The man told him that he’d learn his lesson.

He did…

“времени для вашего лечения, актив. _[Time for your treatment, Asset.]_”

Soon.

Soon.

_Soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments. Thanks for reading. Hopefully you like it. 
> 
> P.S. I totally don't cry while writing this for you all. I'm not crying, you are.


	6. Feral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets in trouble for killing a man. 
> 
> The Handler takes care of the consequences.
> 
> Meet the double agent?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak Russian, not my native language. I left translations. All mistakes are mine, I don't have a beta reader. Sorry. Thanks for reading.

** _ 5 weeks later _ **

“Asset,” 

He could hardly stand to hear it. Tony lifted his head weakly. 

The Handler. Doctor Krovopuskov. 

“обработчик _[Handler]_” Tony spoke hoarsely to greet the man. 

“Please, English Asset.” Tony’s face contorted into confusion. 

“Handler,” he restated. The handler came up to him with a clip board. 

“Asset,” he slipped a pair of glasses on his face. The glasses glared in the light, making him close his eyes. “There have been multiple accounts of you misbehaving.” He raised an eyebrow at Tony. 

Tony tensed in the metal chair he was slumped in. He looked back up to the greying haired Doctor. 

“…-lease sir…” he mumbled around the heavy feeling of drugs. 

“What is there for you to plead about? You have attacked my men.” The handler set the clipboard on the small metal cart next to him. 

“You bit one of my men. Bit them!” He snarled, his accent really showing as he towered over the drugged Asset. 

“H-He touche-” Tony cowered away a bit from the man’s body. 

“I don’t care, you have bit someone. Do you understand how bad that is?” the man grabbed a handful of Tony’s hair and yanked his head up. “You are not to hurt my men.” Handler’s face was filled with anger. 

“You have had 12 accidents in the past week,” the handler let go of his hair and stepped away. “Can you not wait for bathroom walk? Must you relieve yourself like an animal on the floor?” He shook his head. “For shame, Asset.” 

“I cannot move Sir.” He spoke quietly. 

“YOU MOVE WHEN I TELL YOU TO MOVE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, ASSET?! YOU SPEAK WHEN I SAY YOU SPEAK! YOU KEEP YOU MOUTH SHUT OR YOU WILL BE PUNISHED!” The Handler turned to Tony and grabbed him by the neck. He tightened his grip and lifted him from the seat a bit. He weakly grasped at the man’s hand and nodded quickly. He sputtered and coughed around the man’s grip. 

“Good Asset,” he dropped Tony back in the chair from the small distance he had him held. Tony gasped and closed his eyes. He tried to even his breathing and swallow without slight pain. He could feel the small pinches of where the man dug his fingernails into his esophagus. 

“How long do you think you’ve been here?” the Handler huffed in annoyance, fixing his hair from being out of place at his short outburst. Tony looked up at him and stayed quiet, not sure if he was to speak. “Answer that.” The man grit through a clenched jaw. 

“1 year…” Tony answered quickly to satisfy his handler. A mad handler was not good. Never good. 

“A year? My, my, seems the side effects of the drugs are truly in effect.” He leaned towards Tony and looked him in the eyes, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. “It has been 5 weeks; you have 2 years and 47 weeks left.” 

Tony let out a choked off sob. He started to plead. “N-No, no, no, no, no, n-” 

A harsh slap echoed in the small hospital like room. 

“YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SPEAK. YOU ARE A PIECE OF PROPERTY; PROPERTY DOES NOT SPEAK.” The Handler yelled in his face. Tony leaned back from the man, tears running down his cheeks. The drugs were still faintly clouding him, adding with the panic from earlier. The handler sighed. 

“Wow, you are just pissing me off today, huh? Is that your aim?” He frowned in confusion. 

“You are trying to get me to kill you,” the man chuckled manically. “Because let me tell you, it’s working. I just want to strangle your neck. Watch the light leave your eyes as you choke. Almost like that guy you killed.” He inched his hands towards Tony, demonstrating with a squeezing motion. 

“You have any idea who you killed? Or did you just kill like feral animals do?” he walked towards another side of the room. 

“I gotta say, I have never seen anything like that in my entire life. Ever.” He chuckled. “I mean, damn. You full on killed that guy. Oh, his name was Oleg. Had a wife, 3 kids. A cat. Real nice guy.” Guilt trip. The handler wanted him to feel bad. Tony gulped around the tight feeling in his throat. His mouth still tasting like iron. Caked blood on his chin and all down his front. 

“I mean, shit. You ripped that guys esophagus out. With your teeth too. Holy shit, you are a crazy guy. I can see why they called ya Merchant of Death,” Tony cringed at the old nickname. “I always thought it had to do with the whole weapons business, but you’re just crazy. I mean, you never were the same after Afghanistan, right? You died in that cave. Some part of you was gone.” He turned back to Tony with a long needle that had blue liquid in it. 

“How’d it feel? Ya know, tearing out the guy’s throat? Did it have a crunch to it? Mushy and wet? Sure, it must’ve been warm, considering all the blood. Was the blood just pouring out? Or did it spray out of his throat like a sprinkler? Did you get this overwhelming satisfying feeling when you did it, watching him die?” Tony suddenly felt sick. His mind reeling back to it all. 

The feeling of the man’s throat under his teeth. The chunk of skin and muscle in his mouth. The man’s blood seeping and flooding the space between them. The strangled shout that gurgled around blood as he collapsed. Spitting out the chunk on the floor as the man’s blood poured out of his mouth. The extreme panic and shock as he watched the guy die, immediately regretting his decision. He could feel himself hyperventilate as he looked up to the Handler. 

“You scared?” Tony gulped and furrowed his eyebrows, weakly gripping the metal and plastic chair. “You should be. You should be petrified.” Tony wanted to say he was more than petrified. Petrified didn’t even begin to cover the feeling he was experiencing. He looked wide eyed at the syringe in the Handler’s hand. 

“Do not fear. I’m a _Doctor._” A doctor for Hydra, not a legal doctor. “This is good for you.” He wiggled the syringe in front of Tony’s face. 

“We’re going to fix you up. You’ll be able to go home soon. And when you do, why, let’s just say that they’ll be in for a surprise.” Handler grabbed Tony’s chin and moved his neck to the right. He could feel the cold tip of the needle resting against his neck. 

“You see, I was going to give you special treatment for this. All nice and set up. But see, now? Now, you’ve made me mad. You killed someone. You aren’t supposed tot kill the people on _your _side.” The needle pricked his skin and slowly slipped in. 

“Now, you’re going to take it piece by piece. I’m going to make you feel every second of it. Feel your body be forced to accept the serum.” Tony hissed in slight pain as he felt the cold liquid slowly seep into his veins. A low whine left him as the Handler yanked the needle back out of his neck after pushing the serum in. 

The Handler stepped back, looking Tony over. “My, My, already feeling it? Hopefully you’ll learn your lesson, Asset. Never do it again. I’ll see ya tomorrow huh, cupcake?” He pat Tony’s face and smiled. 

“Yeah I will, you’ll be getting more.” He gestured to the empty needle in his hand. Tony grunted and tensed. His muscles cramped up and he felt a throbbing pain in his body. “Oh yeah, now it’s kicking in huh?” the handler grinned and tossed the needle on the cart. 

“Alright, so. Since Oleg is dead, I’m gonna get Big Mike in here to take ya back to your room.” He shook his head and walked over to the other side again, probably calling the man. 

Tony released a strangled cry when his vision blurred and covered in black spots. The serum in effect. He could feel every second of the serum in his body. His muscles twitching and clenched as it changed under the serum. He wasn’t given the full aspects of the serum. Only a small dosage. It hurt even more than he could’ve imagined. _Is this what Steve was going through? _Probably not, Steve got all of the serum at once. These guys were torturing his body. 

“I almost pity you, almost.” The handler was leaning against the counter across from Tony with a black walkie talkie in his hand loosely. “I think it’s those little whimpers and whines you make, they just hit the heart.” He gave a fake look of pity, slowly turning into a grin. “If only I had a heart.” He chuckled at his own words. 

Tony clenched the chair tightly and grit his teeth. He had to close his eyes from the bright lights, feeling too sensitive. Things felt a bit louder and he could feel panic come over him. He started to hyperventilate. “-lea-lease…” He choked out around his tense, throbbing pain. 

“Nah, I don’t think so. You don’t deserve it.” He shrugged and set the walkie talkie down. The door to their right creaked open and a larger man walked into the room. 

“ты назвал меня? _[you called me?]_” The man asked, stepping towards Tony in the chair. 

“да, взять этого животного. _[Yes, take this animal away.]_” The handler waved in Tony’s directs as he spat the words with disgust. 

“сразу. _[right away.]_” He nodded and slung his gun over his back. He wrapped an arm around Tony’s knees and one around his back, gently lifting him from the chair into his arms in a bridal style. Tony tensely rested against the huge man. The man gave the handler a nod before leaving the room. 

When the door closed, the man looked at Tony. 

“Hey,” Tony almost fell out of them man’s arms in shock. Tony looked up to the man through his clouded vision. The man had a large brown beard and a smile. His eyes were a hazel color. “You doing okay?” he asked softly in a deep whisper. 

“-ey,” Tony whispered back hoarsely.

“I seen those guys touch you,” Mike pulled Tony closer to his chest, protectively. “I don’t like that; you don’t want it. I’ve heard you cry.” His tone seemed to go sad for a moment. 

“C-Can’t do an-anything ‘bout it.” Tony relaxed against the man, his body warming Tony. Tony knew it was wrong, but this man was so kind. He didn’t hit Tony yet or hasn’t yelled. 

“I know, I did something about it.” He smiled again; almost snuggling Tony close as they walked. Tony frowned in confusion but allowed it because he couldn’t move without hurting. 

“Wha-…?” He weakly lifted his head. 

“I booked as much of guard time as I could for you. Sir Krovopuskov thinks I’m going to hurt you the worst, so he encouraged it.” Mike explained. “I don’t want to hurt you. I am actually a big fan of your work. Your father’s too.” He rambled quietly. Tony was utterly confused at this. Everyone wanted to hurt him. No one was good. He couldn’t really be imagining this. He’d stop hallucinating and the man would just be quietly carrying him. 

“A-Are you actually okay?” The man shook Tony in his arms a bit. Tony groaned a bit and tensed. “Oh no! D-Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry. I-I’m sor-” Tony weakly placed a hand over the man’s mouth. Tony frowned at him. 

“тишина́. _[Silence.]_” Tony spoke soft but firmly. The man widened his eyes. He nodded and moved his mouth from Tony’s weak hand. 

“You can speak Russian?” He questioned. They were closer to the room. “Oh, well you are a genius, of course you can learn Russian in 5 weeks.” He chuckled a bit. “It took me 2 years to learn when I came here. I’m actually from Kansas.” He whispered. Tony frowned. 

“What the fuck?” Tony mumbled tiredly. 

“Yeah, I left America and came to Moscow, met my friend here. I ‘joined’ Hydra.” He added emphasis on Joined as if he didn’t.

“What ya mean?” Tony hummed in confusion. 

“I didn’t really join. I was just wandering the forest with my gun, and Hydra guy brought me to Dr. Krovopuskov. They offered me a job, so I took it.” He shrugged. 

“A-Are you cr-crazy?” Tony damned this stupid serum, ruining his body at the moment. 

“Perhaps, I saw an opportunity to help, here I am helping, right?” He felt them stop, Mike shifting Tony into one arm as he opened the door. “I mean, if you saw Hydra agents dragging Iron Man into their facility, you’d get curious too.” He walked in with Tony. 

“I-I’m not Iron Man anymore… I’m Asset.” He admitted quietly, his head resting against Mike’s shoulder. 

“You believe these vodka drinking nutcases? You’re Iron Man to me. Always will be.” He felt Mike shift him and lay him down. His body unconsciously tensed to expect cold, blood-soaked concrete. 

_ It never happened? _

Tony was greeted with what felt like a cot. His hands grabbed a handful of it and felt another make-shift cot. He looked back up to Mike who smiled at him. 

“I asked them to get you another cot. Well, I scared them into it. But, no one needs to know that, right?” He crouched down beside Tony. “Anyways, I wanted to thank you for saving my life back in Sokovia. I’d be dead if it weren’t for the Avengers. I know some people weren’t as lucky, but the least I can do is thank you.” He set his gun down and shrugged his large jacket off his shoulders. Tony felt the large, warm jacket lay over his body. Mike pat his shoulder. 

“I’d ask ya for an autograph, but not now. You’re in no condition. I can wait for it.” He grabbed his gun and rose to his feet. 

“Thanks. I’ll be back in maybe an hour or so, bring ya some food and water, take ya potty. All that jazz.” He shrugged. “Take a nap. See ya around Iron Man.” He watched Mike leave. 

When the door closed, Tony sighed and relaxed into the warm jacket and the cot. 

_ Maybe he could trust this guy.  _

_ Maybe.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, sorry for any mistakes. Kudos, comments, all accepted. Sorry for slow updates, I've been a bit busy. Thanks guys. :)


	7. The Words Of The Handler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freedom feels closer than he thought.
> 
> Except its not. 
> 
> There's always a price to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, so this hurt. Anyways, as always, I don't speak Russian. Not my native language. I left translations. All mistakes are mine, I don't have a beta reader. Sorry bout that. Thanks for reading.
> 
> ***NEW FAN ART TO GO WITH THIS STORY!!! (ALL CREDIT GOES TO:: @evaheartbeats On Tumblr. Thank you so much for the art work or Hydra Super Soldier Tony Stark!!💙**
> 
> \- https://stark--raving--strange.tumblr.com/post/189295360830/evaheartbeats-hydra-super-soldier-tony-stark
> 
> \- https://stark--raving--strange.tumblr.com/post/189295575010/evaheartbeats-on-his-way-to-kick-some-ass-hes
> 
> -https://stark--raving--strange.tumblr.com/post/189295419330/evaheartbeats-2-sketchy-drawings-of-hydra-super

** _ 9 weeks later _ **

The hall.

He panted and steadied his breathes the best he could as he ran. His bare feet slapping against the concrete.

Muffled shouts in Russian as he looked forward. Only forward, if he looked back, he’d never make it. He’d be slowed down.

He felt so alive. More alive than he’s felt in the past 9 weeks.

9 weeks of constant torture and pain and hurt. He was free.

Only yet, he had to run. To find an escape.

The halls were bright, feeling as if his almost naked body was burning under the light. He hissed in between his panting, feeling the uncomfortable scrap of the concrete on his bare feet. He closed his eyes to ignore the pain. The least of his worries after 9 weeks of what he had gone through.

A little pain for the pleasure of that desperately wanted freedom.

He couldn’t tell if those whimpers were coming from him, or perhaps there was others here. He assumed they were from him. They had to be.

“Остановить! _[Stop!]_” A deep voice yelled more clearly.

“Steve!!” It came out, choked off in a sob. Calling for the man that had promised his freedom. Maybe Steve was here like he had been before. He could feel the warm tears streaking down his cheeks, getting caught in his beard. He felt a bit dizzy, stumbling more. “Steve!” he yelled breathlessly.

He came to a turn in the hall, trying to halt himself as he held his arms out in front of him to stop. He slammed up against the wall and gasped. “STEV-”

A gun shot fired loudly in the halls and he ducked against the wall, bringing his hands over his head.

“Остановить его! _[Stop it!]_” Another man shouted.

“не позволяйте им уйти! _[Don’t let them get away!]_” Another gun shot fired and he scrambled to his feet, bolting down the empty hall in front of him.

The gunshots made his ears ring, his mind still racing.

_Where the hell was Steve? Steve promised him freedom. Now that he was leaving Steve wasn’t here?_

He was almost to the end of the hall, a metal door with a small window. He gasped and almost stumbled. He was so close to being out, being free. Right there was his ticket to leave. He slammed his full body against the metal with a clang. He grasped at the cold metal and tugged.

The door wouldn’t budge. He tugged again and pulled with his whole body.

“STEVE?!” He yelled, pulling again before slamming his hand against the door. The door wouldn’t budge.

“No. No. No. No. Please, No.” He mumbled in a hurried sob, tugging again. More footsteps echoing. “Come on. Come on. COME ON!!!” He yelled, the rage making him feel as if his body was on fire compared to the cold weather. He growled and tugged with all his might.

He was infuriated. All this serum injected over time, had to mean something right. He tugged so hard, with all the strength behind it, the door came off the hinges. A loud screeching sound as the metal scrapped on the floor. The clinks of the hinges clattering against the concrete. A harsh breeze hit his skin.

Another gun shot at the end of the hall pulled him from the haze of gazing out at the snowy forest. He swallowed hard and stepped out quickly, his bare feet sinking into the cold snow, soothing the scrapes from the concrete.

A particularly loud gunshot had gone off. He tensed, waiting for the impact of the bullet to hit him.

It never happened.

He frowned at an unfamiliar sound of a body hitting concrete. He quickly turned back to see a bigger body laying on the ground.

_Mike. _

“MIKE?!” He yelled, almost a sob as he reached out for the man, collapsing to his knees. Tony grasped the man’s shoulder. “Mike, no, no, no, come on big guy.” He mumbled, shaking Mike’s shoulder. Mike turned his head weakly and slowly in Tony’s direction.

“Hey… I know I’m not Steve-” He coughed; and Tony’s eyes trailed down to where Mike’s large hands were clutching over his stomach. He could see the red seep out onto the concrete and puddle underneath the larger man. “But… I figured I could help you.” He smiled weakly.

“Wha- Why?” He frantically placed his hands over Mike’s which were covering the wound. His hands staining red. He looked up with a worried gaze at Mike’s scrunched up face that soon smoothed out as he met Tony’s gaze. Tony mumbled softly; he didn’t really have a grasp on what he was saying until he listened. He was mumbling in Russian to Mike.

“Останься со мной, льстить, вы не можете пойти. Бодрствовать. _[Stay with me, please, you can’t go. Stay awake.]_” He mumbled as he moved the blood-soaked hand to grab at Mike’s face. “Майк… _[Mike…]_” He could hear the shouts far down the hall, getting closer.

“It hurts…” He heard the bigger man whimper. His face contorted with pain as he looked up at Tony. He could see the light fading in those eyes that were glazed with tears. “I-I’m sorry…” He gasped a bit. Tony looked up at the loud crackle of a static speaker. The intercoms…

“You think you can just leave? Not this time. Never. You are mine. Be a good boy like you always are and come back; or face the consequences.” The harsh snarl of the Handler came from the speaker. “I have my men held back. You have a chance. Get back to the cage. Or face the chair.” He spoke in another firm snarl.

He looked down at Mike. Mike had less life in his eyes, his head resting against the cold concrete, stained with his blood.

“Don’t….” it was a small whisper to Tony.

“Why did you do that?” He growled at him a bit in English. He got closer to Mike and held the man’s hand.

“Because… You’re Iron Man…” He smiled weakly, blood on his face from Tony’s hands. His breathing was shallower. “You can’t let that go…”

“That’s It.” The Handler’s growl crackled through the speaker.

“Пещера, _[Cave.]_”

Tony gasped and moved his hands away from Mike’s body to cover his ears. _The words. _

“Электрический. _[Electric.]_”

He fell back into the snow, whining as he covered his ears more, unable to fade the man’s voice.

“Шестнадцать. _[Sixteen.]_”

“Палидум. _[Palidum.]_”

He wasn’t focused on Mike. He looked at the man in confusion, his surroundings feeling as if they were draining. The world disappearing from what he once knew.

“Железа. _[Iron.]_”

“Пять. _[Five.]_”

He grunted and pushed himself up in the snow, his breathing becoming shorter and more panicked.

“Нью-йорк. _[New York.]_”

“Щит. _[Shield.]_”

He flinched and got on his best steady feet, stepping over the dead body of the person he didn’t recognize at the moment. The surroundings seemed confusing, everything feeling like it was under water and blurred. He stepped back into the hall, listening to the oh-so familiar voice that crackled through the speakers. He wanted to stop. To be himself. But the voice was enticing. He wanted to listen. But he didn’t know why. Or what he was doing it for. Or even who he was. What was happening? It made no sense.

“Воды. _[Water.]_”

He closed his eyes, smelling the gun powder, the sound of the crackling voice saying the last word before he blanked out.

“актив. _[Asset.]_”

The voice stopped crackling.

Tony stood straight and tall. Arms at his sides, face stoic of any expression. His eyes almost lifeless. The bright brown now a dull brown. His body covered in the blood of Mike, but he paid no mind to his lifeless friend.

“Good Asset.” The Handler laughed. “Cage. Now, Asset.”

Tony immediately followed through the orders at his name.

_Asset._

He was Asset. Only Asset. Nothing else mattered but what his Handler instructed of him to do. His feet smacked against the concrete as he stared forward, head high and shoulders back. He stood tall, much taller than he normally would.

A pair of men rounded the corner with their guns held high, slightly shaking.

“Let’s test this out. Seems like it’s working for once. Maybe that’s all he needed, a bit of war zone action.” He chuckled. “Alrighty, Good Boy. Kill one of them, Asset.”

Asset stepped forward, a small frown playing over his features as he marched forward. The shorter male- who was once taller than Tony before the serum- backed away and dropped his gun to the ground with a clatter. The sounds of his boots fading as he ran from Asset. Asset centered his gaze on the last man.

“W-Wait. Please, no, no, no. Please…” He kept pleading as Asset struck a hand out, clamping it around the man’s esophagus. He tightened his grip, using his super strength. He lifted the man with one hand and kept his hold. The man being choked by Asset squirmed before weakly grasping down at his side. He gripped the handle of a knife, slipping it out of his sheath. He lifted his hand, clutching the blade and aimlessly bringing it down, the knife stabbing into Asset.

Asset felt a tiny puncture in his shoulder and looked to see the blade sticking out. He frowned and looked back to the choking man. He growled an almost feral like growl and squeezed. The echo of a choked off yell, followed by a painfully loud crack in the silence hall, the man went limp under Asset’s hand. Asset stared at the limp body being held by his neck.

The intercom crackled and the sound of a clap pierced his ears. The frown faded back into a stoic look. He heard his Handler.

“Jesus H. Christ. I am in awe with your abilities every time. Always the throat, nice choice. Ya got a throat kink or something? You like choking, yeah?” more laughter. Asset stared forward and blinked a few times, the old tears dried with the blood on his cheeks. He unclenched his hand and the lifeless man crumbled to the floor.

“Anyways, good Asset. At least this was an amazing scientific experiment. I didn’t think the words would work. Pity; wish I had popcorn. Was a fantastic show. I’ll just keep these recordings for later. Use ‘em as material.” Asset lowered his arm and stood still, staring at the wall. He clenched his fists by his sides.

“Anyone tell you how goddamn hot you are? I mean, shit, you are attractive. That serum worked wonders. Look out Captain America, my Good Boy is ready to compete for America’s hottest body of all time. Does that serum make everyone look like they got chiseled by God’s? Because, hot damn, you are one fine specimen. You know what. I got a new theory I need testing on.” Asset lifted his head at the upcoming orders of the Handler.

“Instead of your cage, I want ya to get on down here to The Chair. I could use your help to put that mouth to good use.” He growled out. “Watching you do all that? Damn. You look fine covered in blood. Come on, Idiot. Hurry the hell up now, or I’ll put a bullet in your fucking skull, yeah? Alright, see ya here in 60 seconds tops, Hot Stuff.” The intercom died off and Asset turned on his heel, marching to the room in a quick stride.

He had his orders, his Handler needed him and that’s all he knew now.

He doesn’t know Mike or the man he just killed, both dead in the hall.

He only knows his order.

His Handler.

_He is Asset._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, So I do apologize. That is kinda my fault. 9 weeks in. We're getting there. Expect more angst. It's inevitable. Hope you liked it. Sorry for the mistakes. Kudos, Comments, accepted. Please leave 'em. Sorry again for slow updates, y'all are awesome readers. Thanks. :)


	8. Empty Spaces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well its been a long fucking time. Sorry about that. But here I am, have not lost hope, and here to bring you yet another chapter. I'll try my best to keep it up. Thanks to all you loyal readers.

** _ 1 week later _ **

The cold air was quite bitter this time around. It’s been so long since he could piece anything together about himself. Who he was, who he used to be, what life was like before? Things seemed so simple when he was what they called him. _Iron Man? _

None of that life made sense. This didn’t make sense either.

No, of course it didn’t. Who was he kidding? This was worse than anything he’d gotten himself into.

He stood, awaiting the orders of the handler, who was pacing back and forth. Yelling in Russian of something the man in ties laying on the ground had done.

Asset wanted to leave. With the wide-open spaces, surely, he could get away on foot. The gun couldn’t stop him because of the vest they gave him.

“You.” He stopped, pulled from thoughts when the Handler had grabbed him by the arm, dragging him over. “Kill him now.” He ordered.

The world felt fuzzy at the order, something he had wanted to disagree to. Something that made a disgust rise in his throat. All feelings melting away like wax under a fire. The half-conscious thought of who he was completely slipping through the cracks of the ice, leaving an emotionless tool standing in the place of his shoes.

“You! Yes, You!” He slaps the back of his head, shoving the gun in his hand. “Kill him.” He makes him stumble forward in the snow.

He stared blankly into the eyes of the man on the ground. He was shaking and mumbling some sort of prayer under his breath. He could barely hear the man speak, saying something along the lines of; “This isn’t you,” and “Wake up.”

A loud bang echoed across the snow-covered fields; the man was gone in a second. Blood splattered across the snow, the body limp. His ears ringing, hands shaking somewhat as he stared at him. He turned his head; the Handler was speaking. His lips moving but he could not hear what he was saying, his voice being drowned out by his screaming thoughts and loud ringing.

The words barely being made out, but his hand was held out, expecting the gun back. He looked down, the gun still hand bullets. He could use it.

He waited, hearing the voice next to him.

_“Run.”_ He looked up, then over to spot Steve Rogers standing there, in full uniform, pointing at him. _“Run.”_ His words repeating and echoing louder than before.

He takes a step back; the Handlers face twisting in anger. “Asset!”

_“Run.”_ The other voice of his- friend? - continued to order loudly.

He takes another step away from the man, ignoring the way he was tempted to listen, almost giving up.

_“RUN!” _Steve suddenly in his face screaming and pointing at him. The voice loud enough to startle him, the ringing drowned out as he turned, running. Though running in the snow was inconvenient, he ran as fast as he could, not turning back.

Asset looked back to see the Handler standing in place, not bothering to chase him. That was odd enough to strike fear in him, making him run faster. He closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head. His brain felt like a frosted windshield and like someone had turned the defroster on. He had no idea who he was, where he was going, or where he even was but he knew he needed to get out of there. Some way, somehow.

He stumbled through some bushes, jumping over a rotting log, heart pounding in fear. He couldn’t get far anyway but he had to try to go.

He holds the gun close, shaking his head.

_"Don’t fall for it Tony. We’re almost home free.” _He looks next to him to see Steve again, the man seeming to be running. Yet he knew he wasn’t there; he knew that to begin with when he was fooled twice. He shook his head, trying to focus on the path.

Tony didn’t really know how long he’d been running but he went until he couldn’t anymore, walking slowly. The sun setting a bit more, leaving the area dimmer than before. He could only spot some smoke in the distance, not sure if he should run to it.

He did anyway, worth the shot. He’d mentally come to a decision of life or death. If he was caught by Hydra again, he’d just end it with the gun in his hand. No more Asset or Hydra or anything to hurt him ever again. But it was a choice at freedom. At a second chance once more to fix whatever the hell was going on with him.

He trudged through the snow, mind wandering and trying to piece together anything he could even remember as he carried on. Siberia. Accords. Stephen Strange. Avengers. New York.

Tony shook his head, none of it even making sense to him. He didn’t like it whatever it all was. Making him nauseas just thinking about it.

He spotted the small house, smoke coming from the chimney and a child playing in the yard with a ball. There was a loud crack, he flinched lifting the gun to find the child had just hit the ball with some sort of stick. A ball now landing in the snow near him. He lowered the gun to not make himself be a threat, watching the kid stare back at him.

There was a tense silence in the stiff winter air, before the kid turned, dropping the bat and running away. Tony left standing in the field, staring at the house. He could turn and run, but if he did it would be right back in the direction of who he was running from already. Tony shook his head, moving and grabbing the ball before climbing over the fence. He lets himself through the yard before cutting across the yard, dropping the ball by the bat. He was already halfway across the yard when the door to the house slammed open.

“Mommy look!” The kid yelled, pointing at Tony. He met his gaze with the woman. She stood, pushing the child behind her.

“Stay back.” She whispered to her son, keeping a hand on him. “He’s dangerous.” She whispered. Her son opening his mouth to fight her reasoning but going quiet when she shook her head.

The woman stepped off the porch, still holding the pan in her hand. She stormed in his direction, not even hesitating, even when he stepped backwards to get some distance between them. She just swinged and hit him with the cast iron pan, knocking him unconscious as the world faded to black. Leaving him to lay in the snow.

“Get the ropes. We must put him in the barn for the night. A storm is supposed to hit.” She waited, the son staring at the man on the ground. Without a second thought he ran inside to get the ropes, the mother grabbing Stark by the suit collar and tugging his body through the snow to the barn.

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters will come. Kudos happily accepted. Hope it was okay. Just some stupid idea I thought of at like 2 am. Thanks for reading and I'll answer your comments. :)


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